50 Shades of Greg
by Scarlett Rogue
Summary: A captivating novel about Mycroft Holmes, a rich, powerful government official who meets the charismatic Gregory Lestrade at a crime scene. The two start an illicit sexual arrangement, but love eventually gets in the way. Can Mycroft maintain control of his own life, or will he lose it in the depths of Greg's chocolatey eyes?


Summary: A captivating novel about Mycroft Holmes, a rich, powerful government official who meets the charismatic Gregory Lestrade at a crime scene. The two start an illicit sexual arrangement, but love eventually gets in the way. Can Mycroft maintain control of his own life, or will he lose it in the depths of Greg's chocolatey eyes?

Rated: M

Note: Pre-John (John will come in the next installment, if this gets enough interest.)

Yes, this is a parody of 50 Shades of Grey. Though, to be honest, I have yet to read the horrible thing. I've read experts, and I know the plot in great detail, so it should be reminiscent of the original work.

* * *

"Anthea, might you be willing to go visit my dearest brother this morning?" Mycroft Holmes asked, balancing his phone on his shoulder as he shuffled through the stack of government reports on his desk. Security protocols always came at the worst time for the man.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't get back from Cardiff in time. He would be long gone by the time I get there."

Mycroft rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Too true. I suppose this means I must go."

I've already called Mr. Joseph and asked him to be your driver, Sir. He'll get you there and back fast and safe."

"Thank you, Anthea. Oh, and do be careful down there. You might catch cold in that weather."

"If I do," the young woman laughed, "you'll be the first to know. Goodbye, Sir."

"Good day, Anthea."

Mycroft clicked his phone off and sighed deeply, two fingers massaging his temples, exhausted. The day hadn't started off to brilliantly, thanks to a new set of laws that someone very high p wished for him to look over and approve before they were presented as such. Technically such was illegal, but Mycroft had a free pass. He had worked hard his entire life to get to where he was now, and he was damn good as what he did.

The day was made more difficult when he discovered that his younger brother, Sherlock, had entered into a new investigation, this one trickier than ones in the past.

Sherlock was a handful, to be sure. He generally despised authority, and he didn't have much patience for Mycroft. Putting the two together usually mad for a very awkward tea party, but it was something that Mycroft had to do. Sherlock didn't need looking after, per se, Mycroft just worried about his dear brother too much.

Usually Anthea went on these excursions, visiting crime scenes and keeping tabs on Sherlock, but she was visiting family in Cardiff this morning. Seeing as Sherlock was bound to be at the crime scene no more than fifteen minutes, no way would Anthea get back in time. Mycroft would have to make the trip himself and hope Sherlock didn't give him too much trouble.

Mycroft pulled away from his desk, grabbed his phone off the shiny wood, and headed for the door. He paused briefly to contemplate putting on something a bit less formal, perhaps a more acceptable jacket, but decided against it and made his way down the winding staircase in his huge house. Sherlock would just have to accept Mycroft for what he was comfortable wearing. Or learn to ignore it, as he probably already has.

The sleek black car was waiting for him outside when he locked the front door behind him.

"Good morning, Sir," a short, balding man smiled and held the back door open.

"Good morning, Mr. Joseph. This shouldn't take too terribly long," Mycroft stated as he slid in the back of the car, his umbrella resting at his side on the seat. Mr. Joseph climbed into the drivers seat and they were off, speeding through London fast and safe, just as Anthea promised. Mycroft peered out the window, watching the rain cascade down the glass. He patted his umbrella and sighed; today was going to be a very unfortunate day, he could already tell.

By the time they pulled up at the crime scene, the rain had let up enough that Mycroft decided to leave his umbrella in the car. It was nothing more than a light drizzle now, and he wouldn't be outside for very long. Sure enough, when he stepped out of the car and looked up, his younger brother was bounding toward him, annoyance written plainly across his pale face.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" Sherlock spat out, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

"Simply admiring the men and women hard at work," Mycroft stated airily, looking straight over Sherlock's head, back at the group of people surrounding what appeared to be a dead body.

"In other words, spying on me again?"

"Oh honestly, Sherlock, is caring such a horrid thing?"

"Caring isn't an advantage," Sherlock muttered. Mycroft nodded and looked away. It was his fault, Sherlock's disdain for him. He had taught Sherlock from a very young age, after father passed, that caring would only make him vulnerable. He ensured that Sherlock grew up strong, and in the process wiped away that childish reverence that Sherlock once had for him.

And now, here he stood, worrying about the younger Holmes, wishing that just for one second Sherlock would worry about _him_. How could he be surprised that the tables had turned? He taught his brother well. Too well.

"Is there someone I could talk to who will, perhaps, speak to me without aggression?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and tipped his head in the opposite direction.

"Talk to Lestrade. I can't promise that will get you anywhere. Goodbye, Mycroft."

"Goodbye, Sherlock," the elder Holmes said softly, and watched his brother climb into a cab and drive away, back to Baker Street.

Mycroft made his way to the group of people standing around and headed for the man with the silver hair. Being as powerful as he was in the government, Mycroft already knew Gregory Lestrade's name and position. He was the man who gave Sherlock the ability to work with him on cases. He kept his distance for more than a year, until today.

"Detective Inspector, might I have a word?" The man in question looked up at Mycroft through a mop of wet hair that clung to his forehead. He was in his mid to late forties, though his good looks made him look younger than he actually was.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but this is the middle of a crime scene. I'm gonna have to ask you to remain outside the yellow tape." He looked cross, and Mycroft could now tell why. Two murders, not one.

Mycroft chuckled and pulled out his ID, flashing it front of the Detective Inspector's eyes. He looked from the ID to Mycroft in confusion.

"I'm sorry, did you need anything specific?" Lestrade seemed much more accommodating now, but his voice still held annoyance which he made no attempt to mask.

"I just want a word about my brother, if you please."

"Your brother?"

"Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft shook the ID again and Lestrade read his full name and nodded slowly.

"Wow, I didn't even realize Sherlock had any family!"

"Family is, perhaps, not the best word to describe our relationship. But I do worry about him from time to time. You of all people know how difficult he can be."

"Do I ever," Lestrade breathed, shaking his head slightly. "So what can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?"

"Mycroft, please. And nothing much. I just need information."

"About Sherlock?"

"Exactly."

"You want me to give you dirt on your own brother?" Mycroft's laughter faded in to the steady beating of the rain against cement.

"Not dirt, of course not! Just how he's doing, whether he's treating himself right. That short of thing."

"Why can't you do that?" Lestrade asked. "You know, talk to him. Have a conversation."

"Because he's Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft said sharply, as if that explained everything. And really, it did.

Lestrade sighed and stepped closer, glaring up at Mycroft.

"I'm sorry, Mycroft. I don't really care who you are or what you do; I've got a job to do, and that doesn't include working for you. Have a pleasant day, and if you tamper with evidence on your way outside the tape I'll have you in cuffs in two seconds flat." With that, Lestrade spun on his heel and made his way back to his team. Mycroft smiled up at the sky as he ducked under the tape and headed back to the car.

Most people shrunk into submission when Mycroft flashed his credentials, didn't ask questions or go against his demands. Except for Gregory Lestrade. Mycroft was fascinated by a man who could, for once, put him in his place.

Smiling, he slid gracefully into the car, determined that he should see Gregory again someday soon. He liked him.

Oh, did he like him.

* * *

Woot, first chapter! This chapter was written by me (someottersmarryhedgehogs on tumblr), then next will probably be written by my gf Meg (aka forevershipthehedgeotters on tumblr). Got bored and decided to write this little gem. Review, pretty please!


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